It's Not Easy Being The Joker
by Shelle-belle1972
Summary: How the Joker came to be the way he is. Harley Quinn, too. Life sucks for them. Should these poor, sad people have lots more crazy killing or kinky sex? They can't decide, they like both so much! Help me help them decide! Feedback apprecited!
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first attempt at a serious story....not a joke, which is usually my forte'. I figured, after making the other story about him and Batman so stupid and funny, I owed it to the Joker to give him a serious story....about his inner demons, his love for Harley, and how he got his damn scars!**

**Please lemme know if it's good or bad!**

Chapter 1

Honey, I'm Home!

I lay in the bed watching TV. It was the "Maury" show, or some stupid shit like that. I wasn't really watching it, it was just on. I was more just laying in bed spacing out, staring at the wall. This was a typical day in my life anymore. I pretty much just got drunk or stoned beyond belief every day. I knew I was wallowing in self pity, but what did I have to live for? My family was gone forever. Every day when I went to sleep in my drug induced haze, I prayed I'd never wake up. But I always did.

It had been like this for years. Five years, to be exact. Ever since my babies had been gone. I couldn't allow myself to think of them. The pain was like a knife in my heart. I buried it, soaked it in alcohol and drugs. It was too much to bear. I hated God for what had happened.

The house was filthy. Clothes and stale food lay around. It hadn't always been filthy. I remembered a time when it was filled with the laughter of my little girl. A time of happiness, hope, and love. I remembered Christmases, birthdays, and watching movies. Her friends visiting, their little play dates. I remembered my husband. I remembered the baby inside of me, that never got a chance to live. It didn't matter that the house was trashed. The only one who ever saw the inside of it was my drug dealer. I didn't give a shit what he thought.

I tried to remember what it was like to feel something other than misery and rage. But I couldn't. They were all I had left. I lay in the bed I had once shared with my husband, tears running down my face. I wished I would die, and leave this hell behind. And then, I heard it! My front door being beaten down. Maybe someone had finally come to kill me.

I heard a voice I hadn't heard in over two years....my husband's! "Hoooneeyyy! I'm hoooome!" he screamed. I felt a new emotion. Terror.

Chapter 2

A Visit!

I tried to think what to do, where to hide. I didn't have time to do anything. He knew where I was, and he was coming up the stairs two at a time. It sounded like there were more people with him. Who knew what the hell he was up to. I'd seen he'd been making the news a bit lately. I wondered what the hell he wanted with me. The last I knew, he'd been in an insane asylum. I understood. What had happened to our family was enough to make _anyone_ nuts.

The bedroom door flew open, and there he was! He was larger than life, tall and wild looking. His eyes met mine and he grinned at me. I tried to get off the bed, but I wasn't fast enough. In a second, he was lying on top of me, pinning me. His cohorts laughed. I squirmed, but couldn't get out from beneath him. He weighed a ton, and he had hold of both my wrists.

"Where you going, sweetie-pie?" he asked innocently.

"What do you want?" I cried.

"Well, you aren't being very receptive," he said. "Didn't you miss me?" He ground against me a little, and said, "I've missed you!!!" He grinned a sick smile. "I'm sure you can _feel_ that!"

He was right, I could. It grossed me out a little, but at the same time, it didn't. I _HAD _missed him. I'd missed him, our little girl, and our little baby that never had a chance.

"What do you want?" I repeated, through clenched teeth.

"Well.....," he said, rolling his eyes around and licking his top lip, "I need some help. But now, I'm thinkin' I need some other stuff, too!" He tried to kiss me, but I turned away. This pissed him off, I could tell. He turned around and glared at his buddies, and pointed a gun at them. "Can I have some privacy, with my _wife_, please?" he asked. "The mother of my dead _children_?" The guys backed off, and he shot a hole in the wall. I almost jumped out of my skin. "Shut the mother-fucking door!" he screamed at them. They complied with this request.

"Where were we.....?," he continued.

"You need help," I started.

"Yeah," he said. "I need _LOTS_ of help." Then he started laughing hysterically. I turned my head to the side. I needed to get away. He grabbed my face and pulled it around so we were staring at each other.

"Look at _ME_!" he screamed. "_LOOK_! Or do I repulse you that much?"

I sighed. I knew he should, but he didn't. I couldn't forget who he was.

"No, Jack," I said, caressing his cheek. "You could _never_ repulse me."

He looked surprised. Then his eyes caught the glimmer on my left hand. I still had my wedding set on. He glared at it. "Why do you keep wearing that piece of shit?" he asked. "I got it out of a gumball machine!" (This was a lie, as I'd been with him to the jeweler to pick it out.)

"I dunno," I said, truthfully.

"Well, take it off!" he screamed. "Before I _CUT_ it off!"

His distraction at the ring was all I needed to get an advantage on him. I flipped him over so he was on his back and I was sitting on top of him. He snickered.

"Oooh, Harley! I _LIKE_ it!" He grinned at me. "You're so _forceful_! It's really turning me on!"

Since I was basically straddling him, I could tell he wasn't lying about that.

I grabbed the glove on his left hand and pulled it off, exposing the wedding band he still had on. I crammed his left hand in his face, the ring right in front of his eyes.

"Okay, okay, busted," he said. "You made your point. Gimme back my glove."

I sat on top of him, staring into his eyes. Neither of us blinked. I couldn't see _him_ in there any more. I wondered if he could see _me_. I wondered if I even existed anymore.

He'd lost weight, in fact, he was downright thin; I could feel his ribs and hipbones through his clothes. I wondered when he had eaten last. I felt pity for him. He must be hungry, probably sick as well. Poor thing.

"You've lost weight," I said.

He slapped me on the ass. "And you've found it!" he said giggling. Even though my ass stung a little and it kind of turned me on, I smacked him in the mouth.

"Fuck you!"

"_God_, I wish you _would_," he said. "It's been _years_! And you are just _so _damn sexy, as always!"

I couldn't resist him. Even now, I loved him so much. He was still my _husband_. The one I'd married, the only one I ever would. He pushed up my t-shirt and caressed my stomach. He traced the scar on my stomach with a finger, and a look of sadness passed over him. The scar was horrible. It went all the way across my stomach. The butcher who had made it didn't care what it would look like. I'm sure they expected me to die. They hadn't cared what his scars would look like, either. We weren't supposed to _survive_. It was a cruel joke that we had. It was, you might say, the biggest joke of all.

The look of sadness was replaced by one of lust. He pulled me to him, and we kissed deeply. We'd obviously _both_ missed each other's touch. Our lovemaking was crazy, and wild, and sad, and yet familiar. We both remembered just how the other liked it, after all these years. It was like coming home.

Chapter 3

Remembering

I sat on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. I really needed to move somewhere far away. Somewhere that held no memories for me. I wrapped the sheet tightly around myself, got up, and lit a cigarette. I looked at my crazy, mixed-up husband dozing in the bed. I thought about blowing his brains out and putting him out of his misery. He must have sensed me looking at him, because he opened his eyes and gave me a messed-up smile.

"What ya thinkin?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied. "Just remembering."

"Remembering what?" he asked.

"You know damn good and well what!" I cried.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Well, stop it! It isn't gonna do any good!" He lit one of my cigarettes and took a deep drag off it, blowing the smoke out his nose.

"I know that," I said, tears running down my cheek.

He got up and got dressed. "If you really wanna help me, you can help me find out who Batman is," he replied.

"What good is _that_ going to do?" I responded.

"Because," he said, getting about an inch away from me. "I'm gonna fucking kill him!"

"Why? What does he have to do with anything? Why do you even care?"

"_WHY_?" he screamed. "_WHY_? Are you fucking _retarded_? This is _HIS_ fault!" He started jumping around and getting worked up. "Where the fuck was he when _THIS_ happened?" he pointed to the scar on his mouth with a knife. "Or _THIS_?" he touched my stomach. "Where was he when Zoe was getting her throat slit?" He choked a little on that one. "Maybe there IS still a little of you in there," I thought.

He continued to pace around. "No, no, no! He wasn't worried about _US_. The LITTLE people. You only matter if you have _MONEY_! Well, he's going to learn that money doesn't mean _SHIT_!"

I was sorry I had asked. He stomped out the door, and yelled, "You know where to find me, if you wanna help! Or if you want some more....he he..._action_!" He giggled at his little joke. "I _know_ ya liked it! Pretty sure the neighbors knew, too!" Apparently, his pals were still downstairs. "Come on, bitches!" he yelled at them, and they all took off.

Pretty soon, I was alone in the house. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and went downstairs to pour myself a drink. I walked through the house, reliving all the memories it held. The kitchen. I remembered making Christmas cookies with Zoe and Jack; remembering their laughter over dyeing the frosting goofy colors and making Santa blue and the reindeer green....stupid shit like that. I remembered cooking so many meals. I remembered how Jack used to make peanut butter and jelly or grilled cheese sandwiches for Zoe and cut them to look like hearts. "Because _you're_ my little heart," he'd tell her.....and she'd giggle. "You're _MY_ heart, daddy!" I choked back tears. The living room. Our wedding picture still hung on the wall. Zoe's pictures from kindergarten and first grade. So many pictures, of what had been a normal family. Now a dead family, gone all wrong. The grandfather clock that had been a wedding gift from Jack's parents...it sat still and silent. It hadn't been wound in years. I took another sip of my whiskey, relishing the burn as it went down.

Everywhere around me were memories.....of what we'd had, of death, of what would never be again. Now, the hard part. I climbed the stairs. Our bedroom, well, that wasn't so hard. After all, that's where I spent most of my time, usually drunk or high. I did remember sleeping with my husband there.....but that had sort of happened again recently...ha ha! I also had fucked my drug dealer there when I hadn't had the money for my next fix. So it was kind of a place of mixed emotions. I recalled the joy of telling my husband I was pregnant as I came out of the adjacent bathroom holding my test....he was _so_ happy! I recalled sucking my drug dealer's dick for an eight-ball of meth there, too. Ugh. Disgusting.

The nursery was the next stop....._my_ baby had never slept there, though. She had been ripped from me. Ripped out by an evil man, who didn't care. Who had killed my other child, as well. Who thought he had killed _me_. I hoped he burned in Hell forever. I glared at the ultrasound picture which lay on the dresser. The picture of my dead little girl. _One of_ my dead little girls. The nursery was adorable.....pale pink, with a Winnie the Pooh theme. One wall had letters across it.....HAILEY, they spelled out. That would have been her name. She'd be five years old now. If she'd have been allowed to live. And Zoe.....she'd be thirteen now. Oh, Zoe.

I went to Zoe's room next. It felt like a knife was being stabbed through my heart. Her walls were lavender....."You were _always_ daddy's girl," I thought, smiling. Her little stuffed animals were everywhere, her barbies, her doll house. A fine layer of dust covered everything. Posters of dogs covered the walls; she had _loved_ dogs! A picture on the wall proclaimed, 'Jesus Loves Me'. I sat on her bed and cried silently. Then I lay back on her pillow. I held her stuffed dog (Snoopy had been his name) to my nose, and tried vainly to catch a bit of her sweet smell. It was long gone. Everything was gone. Everything but me. I shut my eyes and remembered the night our world ended.

Chapter 4

2003—Harley Remembers

It was the same as any other night. We'd had supper, watched some television, read a story to Zoe, and went to bed. It was about two in the morning. We'd been asleep for several hours. Suddenly, I awoke to several people in our room!

There was a man on each side of the bed! The one on my side was big! He had a gun pointed at my head. "Scream and you die, bitch!" he exclaimed.

The man on Jack's side of the bed had him shoved up into the headboard. He was trying to sit up and get away, but the guy was a lot bigger than him, and he had a knife on his throat. Jack's eyes were wild.

"Who are you?!" he screamed. "What do you want? We don't have any money!"

"No, but you have something I DO want," the man replied. "Aren't you a fucking chemist or biologist or something? Don't you work at the chemical plant?"

"Yeah.....so what?" Jack responded, still trying to figure out what they wanted. "I'm not anything important there!"

"No?" said the man. "Well.....you're important enough your fingerprints will unlock the door!"

"What do you want there?" Jack asked. "There's nothing there!"

"Well," the man said wickedly, "You probably just aren't important enough to know. But, you're getting us in! Or else momma and the baby are going to die!"

"Mommy?!" called Zoe from her room. "Daddy?"

The evil man laughed. "We just got MORE bargaining power!"

The next thing I knew, two of the men dragged Jack off to do God knows what to him. I sat on the bed holding Zoe in my lap, as she cried in terror. I had to be strong for her.

Finally, after an eternity, the man received a phone call. "Okay, good," he said. "Yeah, it's taken care of." I wondered if it meant we would be let go. He grabbed Zoe by the arm and said, "I need to talk to your mom." "Great," I thought. "I'm gonna get raped." Oh well, as long as Zoe was safe, I didn't care. But instead of letting her walk past, he spun her around so her back was turned to him, and slit her throat! Zoe fell to the floor lifeless, in a pool of blood. I hesitated briefly from shock, and then rage overtook me. I swan dived the man, knocking him to the floor.

"You mother-fucking son of a bitch!" I screamed. "Fuck you! Fuck you! I'm going to KILL you!" I punched him repeatedly in the head, and attempted to get his knife away from him, but only managed to get my hands sliced open in the process. It was pretty hopeless anyway. He was very tall and at least 300#. He flipped me over easily and sat on top of me.

"I'm giving you a C-section, bitch," he sneered. He cut me across the stomach, deep. Oh, God. He really _WAS_ giving me a C-section! The pain was absolutely incredible. The knife felt like it was ripping out my insides, and blood gushed everywhere. I felt myself blacking out, and just before I went under, I heard him say, "Your husband is a dead mother-fucker, too!" Then he laughed.

The next thing I knew, Jack was lying beside me, trying frantically to wake me up. He couldn't talk very well, he was cut up in the face badly. His t-shirt was soaked in blood.

"The ambulance is coming," he slurred. Blood dripped out of his mouth onto my face and in my hair. My stomach was a world of pain.

"Zoe....?" I whispered. He shook his head sadly, tears streaming down his face.

Chapter 5

2003--Joker Remembers

Joker and his men headed back off to the shithole he called "home" for now. Not that he really had a home. He'd just left the last place he'd ever known as home.

He hadn't seen Harley in two, maybe three years. He didn't realize seeing her was going to bring back so many emotions in him. Emotions pissed him off. He decided to get drunk. The men knew that it was probably a good time to leave him alone if they didn't want shot at.

He sat down in a recliner and started drinking Jack Daniel's straight from the bottle. It tasted like shit at first, but he got used to it. God, he felt like crying. He hadn't thought about Zoe or the baby in years, either. He should have just had one of the men go in and talk to her. Of course, they wouldn't have the same effect on her that _he_ would. He probably shouldn't have fucked her, either, but she was so damn _pretty_, and it had been so long. That was really stupid, regardless. It made him feel so sad. He was really pissed off about being sad.

Finally, he got drunk enough to pass out....and then, he was a captive to his memories.

He remembered the men dragging him out of bed, guns and knives pointed at him. He would have tried to make a run for it, if it hadn't been for Harley and Zoe. And the yet unborn Hailey.

He'd never seen the men before, had no idea how they knew who he was, no idea what they wanted. All he knew was, he was a captive in their little plan, and he'd better play along if he didn't want his wife and kids to die.

They took him to the plant where he worked and used his fingerprints to gain access to the lab. He had no idea what they wanted there, and he didn't care. He thought maybe (stupidly) that they'd let him go, but of course, that wasn't happening. As the others went into the lab, the guy holding the knife on him decided to get a little sadistic with him. "You wanna know how I got these scars?" he thought, in his dream, giggling. "That's how!" The pain had been exquisite. The man had practically cut his lower jaw off. Jack had passed out from agony, and had awoken to find the bastard _still_ carving on him. Unbelievable. He had lay there in a daze, and surely, they had thought he would die. He had been stabbed and sliced nearly thirty times....who would live?

Well, they got whatever they wanted in the lab, and left him lying on the ground in a huge pool of blood. When he was sure they were gone, he stumbled to his feet, woozy from pain and blood loss. He leaned against the wall and slowly made his way to the side door, leaving streaks of blood on the wall. He had to get home and make sure Harley and the kids were okay. He hurt so bad. His face felt on fire. He couldn't hold his mouth shut.....his jaw muscles were cut in two. Blood and drool ran down the side of his face. He had to hold his ruined mouth shut with one hand, because letting it hang like that was pure misery. His side hurt from a stab wound.....either his lung had been punctured or a rib had been broken. He bled from too many cuts to count, and ached from the places they had beat on him. How had he lived? He didn't know. But he was on a mission.....and that was to get home and check on his family.

He heard some commotion outside, and peered out the window....it seemed Batman had arrived. "Where were you an hour ago?" thought Jack, giggling. "Oh, that's right. Why would you help little ol' me? Now a big lab....with a lot of money....that was one thing. That was something that would _matter. _Fuck you, Batman!"

He finally made it home....thank God it was only a half a mile. Of course, no one would stop and help him.....apparently no one wanted a bloody mess in their car. He'd _tried_ to get people to stop. But no one gave a fuck. By the time he got home, he wasn't feeling the pain so much anymore. He was mostly feeling rage, and worry about his family. Rage at the bastards who'd done this. Rage at how no one would help him. Rage at Batman, who showed up to prevent the lab from being robbed, but not when _he_ was getting sliced and diced.

When he made it in the house, his rage and pain went through the roof. They were lying on the floor of the bedroom. They appeared to be dead. Blood was everywhere. He picked up Zoe. She was limp and lifeless. His heart shattered in a million pieces. He sobbed into his dead daughter's hair. He grabbed his wife's hand, and was shocked when she stirred a bit and opened her eyes. He struggled to his feet and called an ambulance. Then he came back and lay beside her on the floor, holding her tightly. They lay in a pool of blood, crying softly together, until the ambulance came.

They both knew their lives were forever ruined.

Joker sobbed in his sleep. Tears ran down his face, smearing his makeup. He was drunk, and the men knew, in this mood, terribly dangerous. He was liable to do anything. No one wanted to be around when he woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, writing sad is HARD! I am going to have to finish this (because once it starts, it's GOTTA get finished) and NEVER do that again! I'm not sure what is going to happen totally yet, but I'm sure it's not going to be a really happy ending for either of my protagonists. All, I know is, they are really hurt, really pissed off, and they don't care about themselves at all. And they are totally in love, and they just remembered that. And they get some love and cuddle time here, because they _deserve_ it! **

**Ooooh, they even get a song, too! Nobody I wrote about EVER got a song before. But it is _so_ theirs. I put it in my little profile thingy. I'll never think of it the same again!**

I woke up on Zoe's bed. It was dark, that was all I knew. How much time had passed? I stumbled out into the hallway. I felt like shit. Wow. I stumbled into the bedroom and glanced at the digital clock on my nightstand. 9:30......hmm.....was it Wednesday or Thursday. I wasn't hungry or thirsty....must still be Wednesday! Ha ha!....How tweakers tell time! I put on the tv to the weather channel. Yep, Wednesday. Looked like tomorrow was gonna be a beautiful day! What the fuck ever.

I dug around in my nightstand and found my small hidden baggie of crystal meth. Yum. I dumped out a small amount on a mirror and cut up some lines with a razor blade I had hidden there. I took my little piece of a straw I kept and snorted those bad boys down! "Aw, yeah," I thought. I dumped some more out and began making lines again. I was gonna enjoy the hell out of this! I hated my drug dealer; he was a piece of shit I would rather shoot than look at, and I had to fuck him for almost an hour the other night to get this little bag of joy. A fucking _hour_.....'cause I was watching the clock! I wanted to crawl out of my skin the whole time. So I _earned_ this high!

I lay back on the bed, enjoying the flood of pleasure in my brain. Oh damn! This shit was good! I felt so fucking alive! I closed my eyes to shut out the living hell for a while and rode that white pony.

Then I remembered......didn't some really weird shit happen this morning? Seemed like it did, seemed real.....Oh Jeez. I looked at the wall. Yup. My bedroom got shot up. That was definitely _not_ status quo. Okay. So that shit wasn't a dream. That was _real_. That _happened_. Wow. I didn't know what to feel. I felt happy that my husband wasn't dead. Really fucking happy. Ecstatically happy! I still had a little tiny bit of family left in this shithole of a world! He wasn't doing too great, but he was alive! Alive.....I had felt his breath on me, the heart beating in him, his warmth. I_ knew_ he'd felt the broken heart beating in me, too! I was going to have to go to him. We belonged together, forever.....'til death do us part!

I switched channels, and lo and behold, look who blew up some shit! Yup, it was like an omen. I got dressed, and decided to pretty up a bit. I started putting on my makeup, and then for shits and giggles, smeared my eyeliner all over so I looked more like him. That was funny as hell! Especially with my eyes all dilated out. I knew he'd see the humor in it. I headed out, excited to have a mission other than drinking and getting fucked up beyond belief.

When I got where I needed to go, I was pissed off because they didn't wanna let me in!

"The boss is sleeping," a guy told me, barely opening the door. "Trust me, leave him alone. He's probably hung over."

"Join the fucking club," I responded.

"Who's there?" someone yelled. I tried to see who it was.

"Just some bitch," the guy replied. "Wants the boss for something."

I was getting pissed. "Get his ass up!" I yelled. "Tell him it ain't _some_ bitch, it's _his_ bitch!" This dumbass at the door totally reminded me of the guy who killed my kids....it wasn't, but he kinda looked like him, and he made me really fucking mad!

"Like a hooker?" the guy asked. Now I was _pissed_!

"Like a motherfuckin' _WIFE_!" I screamed. "You know, _THAT_ kind of a bitch!"

Well, that got me in! The guy glared at me. "What is it with you guys and this clown thing?" he asked. I didn't respond. He pointed at a door, and I headed down the hallway.

"You're probably gonna get your ass shot, ya stupid clown-wife-bitch!" the guy called. "Just so ya know." I flipped him off without turning back around and stalked down the hall. I wasn't gonna get shot. "Fuck you," I called back to him.

I went in the room and shut the door. He wasn't asleep. I didn't know if he was hung over or not, but he was awake and alive. He was laying on the bed watching tv. He looked like shit. He smiled at me. "I knew you'd come," he said. "Ya still got the hots for me!" I giggled. It was funny. I sat down on the bed beside him. My God, he was skinny! He'd never been thin before, that I could ever remember.

"Do you ever eat anymore?" I asked him.

"Na," he said.

Fuck. I should've brought food. "Are you hungry?" I asked.

"Yep," he said. "For your muff!" Damn. That shit was _funny_, and I couldn't keep a straight face. I burst into nervous laughter. How the hell was I gonna say no? I was as smitten as I was 15 years ago when I'd said "I do." He grinned stupidly at me. "So......can I have some of it?"

"Do you want me to go get you something to eat?" I asked.

"Maybe when I'm done with you," he growled at me. "And _you're_ done with _me_........'cause damn it, girl, I've been waiting for you all day, and I couldn't have waited much longer!" He pulled me down on top of him, and I was done for.

I awoke a few hours later. He was asleep and wrapped around me like a teddy bear. God, he was so warm and he felt so good. I _really_ had to pee, though! I untangled myself from him, and went to what I correctly assumed to be the bathroom, as it was the only other door besides the one to get into the room and the closet, which was open.

It must have woke him up, because, as I was peeing, I heard him call softly, "Har-leee?!"

"What?" I said. "I'm _peeing_!"

"I know," he said. "I just missed you."

I came out of the bathroom, and he smiled at me, and he was _ALL_ my old husband now, all chocolate brown eyes and love. "Come here!" he said.

I rolled my eyes at him. "We are _so_ not fucking anymore!" I giggled. You know, we aren't in high school anymore! We're in our 30's now!"

"No," he said. "I just wanna hug you some more." I got in the bed with him and we wrapped our arms around each other. "I've been so lonely," he said. "I missed having you to talk to."

"Me, too," I said. I realized I was starving. "Aren't you hungry yet?" I asked.

"Ya," he replied. "But I don't wanna get up."

"Well, make one of them stupid fucks go get it, then," I said. "They're scared to death of you. Although I don't know why. What keeps them from just coming in here when you're asleep and blowing your brains out?"

He grinned at me. "Stoo-pid-ity!" he replied, and made a face like he was retarded. I giggled. "Ya gotta talk mean to 'em!" he said. "That's all they understand!" He held up a finger and whispered, "Watch!"

"BITCHES!!!!!!!" he screamed. I buried my face in my pillow to hide my laughter.

It took them a little bit, but finally, one of them was like, "Uh...yea?"

"IS THAT MY BITCH STEVE?" he screamed. "STEVE-O?" I was struggling to keep quiet.

"Yea?" Steve said.

"GET ME SOME MCDONALD'S!" he cried. "A WHOLE FUCKING BUNCH OF IT!!! LIKE 5 OF THEM MEALS OR SOMETHING!" He bit his lip and giggled, and started up again. "I WANT ALL OF EM TO HAVE BIG MACS IN EM!" I was dying. My God, it was funny.

"Uh, boss....," Steve said.

"WHAT?" he screamed back.

"It's like 7 in the morning. All they're gonna have down there is breakfast right now. So like, is that okay?"

"NO!!!!!!" he bellowed. "IT'S FUCKING MCDONALD'S! TELL EM TO MAKE BIG MACS OR YOU'RE SHOOTING THEM!"

"Uh....okay," Steve said.

"HEY, STEVE-O BITCH?" he yelled back.

"Yea?" said Steve.

"JUST LEAVE IT BY THE DOOR WHEN YOU GET IT. I DON'T WANT YOU LOOKING AT MY WIFE'S TITS!"

I was laughing so hard I was crying.

"Um....okay," said Steve.

"JUST KIDDING, STEVE! I KNOW YOU'RE A FLAMING QUEER! HA HA! OH, AND STEVE?"

"Yea?" said Steve, a note of irritation in his voice.

"IF YOU FUCK IT UP, I'M GOING TO CUT OFF YOUR HEAD AND FEED IT TO YOU!"

"Um...okay," said Steve. I heard them leave.

"That doesn't even make sense, you know," I said.

"What?"

"Well, if you cut off his head, how are you gonna feed it to him?"

He smiled. "See, _that's_ why I married you! 'Cause you're all smart and shit! Of course, I knew when I saw you in high school, I had to have you! You were so hot, you big-haired Camaro driving hot momma!" He climbed on top of me and started kissing my neck. I giggled. He smiled all sexy at me.

"Ya, know," he said. "There is just somethin' that makes me wanna do naughty stuff to you all day long!"

I started to make a smart ass comment, but then he started doing some _really_ naughty stuff to me, and damn! I was liking it!

He grinned up at me. "You can scream and shit if you wanna," he said. "They ain't here. Of course, if you do it when they _are_, I just get more badass points!"

"Okay, okay, okay.....enough with it now!" I said. "What is this thing you want me to help with?"

"Well, I ain't figured it all out yet," he said. "But I'm gonna. It's gonna be BIG!" He motioned with his hands. "Everyone is gonna know about it! It's gonna be EPIC! You can help me figure it out, because you're the only person I know who isn't stupid or fake as hell!"

I heard a noise in the other room. "It's just dumb and dumber," he said.

"Food's here," Steve called.

"FUCK YOU VERY MUCH, STEVE!" he screamed. He went to the door and pulled it in. Damn, that was a lot of food! Someone at McDonald's must have believed Steve, because it was all Big Macs and fries. We pulled it all up on the bed and started chowing down. Steve had got us 5 WHOLE meals, because there were 5 pops, too. _Stoo-pid-ity_. He crammed straws in two of em, handed me one, and then without thinking, toasted me. I did it back, too. I saw his bottom lip quiver. I felt it, too. There always was supposed to be _three_ of us toasting. Now, it would have been _four_.

He tried to make it to the bathroom so he didn't bawl in front of me, but it didn't matter. I knew. And I knew _why_, and that was what was worst.

"FUCK!" he screamed. "Why Harley, why? What did we do?"

"I don't know, Jack," I called back.

He came out of the bathroom, wiping his eyes, "Don't call me that!" he cried. "Call me 'Shithead' or something!"

He leaned into the wall, and then slid down it so he was sitting on the floor. He continued to cry. It was okay. I mean, so was I. I went and sat by him.

"I can't live without her anymore!" he sobbed. "But I keep doing it. I hate it!"

"Me, too," I responded. "I want to die, too."

His sorrow turned to rage. It was terrifying. I realized why Steve was scared of him. He was a fucking force to be reckoned with, that was for sure! And he was damn unpredictable anymore. His eyes looked like saucers, and he was jumping around the way he was when he broke in my house! He was scary as hell! He acted like he'd been on a week long coke binge.

"Come on," he said. "You know what always makes me feel better? Killing some piece of shit that deserves it! You are gonna _LOVE_ it!"

Wow. Shit was getting really crazy around here. But, it beat getting drunk and stoned, so...okay! And I figured, it wouldn't be hard to find someone who deserved to die more than Zoe and Hailey did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Another shitty day in Hell for my new favorite couple! Yay!**

**They get to make their first kill together!**

**A section from Joker's point of view!**

**Good times are had by all! Well, not really. Good times are had by no one!**

We got dressed and headed out to go get in my van. When we came out, Steve and the other guy that happened to be there stood up.

"We're going out," my husband announced to them. They started to follow, and he turned around and looked at them.

"WHAT?!?" he yelled.

"I thought we were going out," said the other guy, whose name, I'd been told, was Ed.

"No, I don't think so," Jack replied. "I said _we're_ going out! I didn't say we were going to retard-ville! So Steve-O, Special Ed.....you ain't going!" He spun around on his heel and stalked out the door. I followed.

"You kiddies have fun!" Steve called after us. Jack flipped him off and grinned back at him.

"You, too!" he cried. "Don't do anything _we_ wouldn't do!" He giggled. "So, feel free to screw Special Ed!"

"Aw, nasty!" Ed yelled back.

We got into the van. I got in the passenger side, because I sure in the hell didn't know where we were going. He got in, started it, and crammed it in gear. Away we went!

"So, I take it you've done this before," I stated.

"Yup." He smiled and took a drink of his pop.

"A lot?"

"Define 'a lot'."

"So, do we just pick out someone at random, then, or do we have like a specific target?"

He slammed on the brakes and stared at me. "Are you _kidding_?" he asked.

"Ummmm, _NO_!" I said. "How the hell would _I _know? This is _your_ hobby, not _mine_!"

"Okay," he said. He pulled into a parking lot. "We've gotta _talk_. You aren't _understanding_. I mean, I've gotta help you understand."

I took a drink of my pop. He kept looking at me.

"Here's the deal," he explained. "If we kill someone, like we're gonna do today, they have to be on the _list_. If something, you know, blows up or something, sometimes people who aren't on the list die. And it's too bad, but it's just one of those things. Because it sends a message to those who _ARE_ on the list."

"What do you have to do to get on the list?" I asked.

"You have to be evil!"

"And this isn't?" I asked.

"Nope," he replied. "This just_ IS_."

"It is _what_?" I asked.

"It is what it is, what it is, what it is," he stated. I decided it was best to drop this line of conversation.

"So, where is the list?" I asked.

"In here," he said, pointing at his head.

"So how do I know if someone is on the list?"

"You have to ask me!"

"So I suppose Batman is on the list," I stated more than asked.

"Oh, ya," he giggled.

"Am _I_ on the list?" He glared at me. "Of course not!" he spat.

I swallowed hard. "Are the guys that killed Zoe and Hailey on the list?" I asked.

He smiled really big! "Not anymore!" he winked at me. "They've been 'crossed off'!!!" He made hand quotes in the air and waited for my reaction to this news.

I smiled. This was obviously the reaction he had hoped for. He leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on me. "I did it for _you_, too," he said.

"So when they got crossed off, do ya think it hurt?" I asked. "A lot?"

"My God, I hope so!" he exclaimed. "I made sure it took forever!" He grinned at me. "They were fucking little pussies, too. Crying and screaming!" He shut his eyes and sighed. "God, it's like music to hear bitches like that screaming! Getting what they deserve!"

He opened his eyes and got right up in my face. "The BEST part, the part that was so awesome, was when they figured out who _I was_! And they knew that it was ALL their fault! They tried to give me money to let them go! Like I'd want their filthy blood-soaked money!"

I couldn't pretend it didn't make my day knowing those bastards were dead. I hoped they had suffered like mad, and they were burning in Hell right now! There was nothing that could compare with how we had suffered, how ruined we were. Whatever he'd done, it hadn't been enough. Because they _WERE_ evil. We didn't know them! They didn't have to do what they'd done! They could have let us ALL go. And everything would have been fine. But they thought nothing of destroying our family. It was just like smashing another bug. We were _nothing_. I felt a surge of rage.

I took another drink of pop, and smiled. "So," I asked, "who are we killing today?"

He grinned at me, took my hand, and kissed my wedding set. "Oh, momma," he said. "I _knew_ you'd understand!"

We got to where we were going, which seemed to be a law office. So apparently, we were going to be killing a lawyer. All right. I felt like I could deal with that.

"So, what did this guy do?" I asked.

"Oh, this guy is _BAD_," he said. "And what's the worst is, he doesn't even _know_ it!"

"He owns a lot of shitty apartments," he continued. "He won't fix shit when it breaks, but he is always on time to collect his rent. And if someone can't pay, no matter what the reason, he thinks nothing of putting them out on the street." He took a drink of pop, and went on with his story. "So, I heard about this time where he put this family out on Christmas Eve! _Christmas Eve_, Harley! So that night, those people slept in a freezing car with their _baby_! And he went to a _party_!"

He started getting worked up, which was kind of scary. "He went to a party and got drunk and ate caviar, while those people suffered! He didn't think about them at all! He doesn't see his evil! Those people were like _roaches_ to him!" He took a drink of his pop. "And _that_, love, is how he made the list!"

"So," I asked. "Does _he_ have a family?"

"He's 40 years old, no kids, and on wife number four. _Four_! So ya see, he's got other things going on. He can't keep his dick in his pants. All he cares about is money and sex. We're really just putting him out of his misery."

"Are we torturing him?" I asked.

"Na," he responded. "He's not _that_ evil. That's a lot of work, and I fucking hate doing it. It wouldn't do any good. He's too stupid to learn. We're just gonna kidnap him and blow his brains out or something like that." Suddenly, he spotted someone, and his attention was all on that.

"Come on!" he cried, jumping out of the van. "It's _SHOWTIME_!"

I noted what was apparently our "target" walking near the building, heading for the parking lot. He pressed a button on his keyring, and a black Mercedes beeped and its lights flashed. Jack sprinted towards the man, slowing as he approached. The guy didn't even see it coming. They passed each other, Jack spun around, and wrapped his arm around the guy's neck. He pointed a gun at the wide-eyed man. Well, now he'd seen both of us, but I guess it didn't matter, since he was gonna die. Jack drug him over to the van and threw a pair of handcuffs at me. I went behind the guy and put them on, as Jack wrapped duct tape around his head, covering his mouth. He then proceeded to shove the guy into the back of the van and slam the door shut. Damn. That shit went down fast! It couldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes.

The guy sat in the back seat, gawking. We got in and then both of us turned around and looked at him. About that time, the guy realized how totally fucked he was. You could see it in his eyes. Jack grinned at him.

"Yup, sucks to be you!" he exclaimed, and off we went!

We went to some abandoned building on the outskirts of town, where you would expect something like this to be happening. Jack got out, opened the back door of the van, and pointed a gun at the guy.

"MOVE YOUR ASS!" he screamed. The guy complied. We went into the building. Apparently, Jack had used it before, because he had all kinds of shit there. He pointed at a bloodstained chair. The guy looked at it and shook his head. Jack smacked him in the head with the gun. The guy sat down. Jack went to a closet and got some rope. He proceeded to secure the guy to the chair. He pulled up a chair right across from the guy, straddled it, and sat down on it backwards, facing the guy. He pulled out a scalpel and started waving it around. The guy freaked.

"KNOCK IT OFF!" he screamed. "I gotta cut this tape off ya!"

The guy held still, trembling, and he started to cut the tape. When he had it cut off the guy's mouth, he made a quick swipe with it and "accidentally" cut the guy a little bit.

"Ooopsy!" he cried. The guy screamed.

"Wow!" Jack said. "You're really a pussy, aren't you? That's a fucking paper cut!"

"What do you want?" the guy asked, sobbing.

"Don't ya know why you're here?" Jack asked. "Surely, ya musta known eventually, you'd end up someplace like this!"

The guy shook his head no. Jack sighed. "See Harley?" he said. "I _told _you he was fucking retarded."

He threw his gun at me. "Shoot him!" he commanded.

"What.....NO!" I cried. "I ain't killing anybody!"

"The fuck you _aren't_!" he screamed. "You better get used to it!"

I stood there with the gun pointed at the guy. I had my finger on the trigger. I was shaking, and tears ran down my face. The guy stared at me, shook his head, and started begging.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. "I can't think!"

"I'm gonna help ya," Jack said. "This time." He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and placed his finger over mine. I knew what was gonna happen. I shut my eyes. He whispered in my ear, "_It's for the girls_." I felt like puking. I started shooting the guy, repeatedly. He didn't have to help me at all! He wrapped his arms around me and held me, the side of his face against the back of my hair. The gun was a semi-automatic. I kept going until the clip was empty. Then I opened my eyes. I almost puked. There wasn't a lot of the guy left. Jack spun me around so I didn't have to look.

"I'll clean that shit up later," he giggled. "Damn, girl! I'm gonna have to get a new chair! Wow!"

I started crying hysterically. He wrapped around me and hugged me tightly, kissing my neck. "Shhhh...shhhh.....it's okay," he whispered.

We drove in silence. I could tell Jack was extremely happy with me. I didn't know what to think. I felt sick at my stomach.

"Go to the house," I said. "I need to take a shower. So do you. We're.....dirty."

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," I responded. "But I will be. Just....please. I can't talk right now."

"Okay," he said.

When we got inside, I went up to the bathroom right beside my bedroom and took the hottest shower I could stand. While I was in there, I screamed and cried awhile. I seemed to feel a little better after this. I put on a clean t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, and put my hair up in a wet ponytail. I came out of the bathroom, and Jack was in the bedroom. He had apparently taken a shower downstairs, because his hair was all wet. He was trying in vain to find some of his old clothes that were small enough to fit him now. The t-shirt didn't so much matter, but he couldn't find pants that would stay up. He looked at me, distressed, and somehow, this was endearing.

"You've got sweatpants in that drawer," I said, pointing. "Just tighten up the drawstring."

"Oh, thanks!" he said. He did as I had instructed.

We lay down on the bed and snuggled up. "So," he asked. "What did ya think of that?"

"I dunno," I responded. "I'm still processing it."

"Okay," he said.

"I want to take a nap," I said. "Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. He hugged me more tightly. I started crying again. "Oh, baby, baby.....no," he said.

"Do you still love me as much?" I asked.

"I can't love you any more than I already do," he said. "You're all I've got. I'm sorry I haven't been here for you when you needed me."

"I love you, too," I mumbled, as I drifted off into my troubled slumber.

As soon as I knew she was asleep, I climbed out of bed and went downstairs. I knew it was a really stupid idea, and it was gonna tear me up, but I _had_ to see some pictures of my daughter. Our wedding. My life before it went to shit. It was tearing me up _not_ to see it worse than anything. I just felt like it was all a dream; maybe it never really even happened. If I could just see a picture, maybe it would make it real. It was really strange, because I could remember things, and then, there were blank places in my memory. What was driving me the craziest was I couldn't remember my daughter's _face_. I could remember her blond hair, how tan she got in the summer, her little outfits. But her face was blurry.

I dug around in the entertainment center and pulled out some albums and books. I glanced at them. A yearbook from 1989, another from 1990. A couple of nondescript photo albums....one was dark blue and the other, dark green. A professionally done leather album with the words "Our Wedding" in big gold letters. _That_ one hurt. A little white book with a picture of a pink lamb on it, which pronounced, "Baby's Memory Book". _Ouch_. This was going to suck. I got up, went into the kitchen, and looked in the freezer. Jackpot! A big bottle of Jack Daniels. I put some ice in a glass, filled it about halfway full of whiskey, and topped it the rest of the way off with pop. I headed back in the living room to torture myself.

A little pink photo album which had the word 'Zoe' on it. My mom had made that one. Another book that Harley had made when she went through her scrapbooking phase. This book highlighted a family vacation we had taken to South Dakota and Wyoming. An 8 x 10 senior portrait of Harley sitting on the motorcycle I had back then. The irony that it was Harley.....on a Harley, I had always found amusing. I dusted it off and put it on the top of the entertainment center. I smiled at it. My God, she was so cute! Still was.

Okay, I guessed this was enough misery to keep me busy awhile. I plopped down in the recliner and started flipping through the pages of "Our Wedding". It didn't take me long to start bawling like a little pussy. I kept drinking. I finished my Jack and Coke, went to the kitchen, and just got the bottle. Why waste the pop?

I flipped through the other albums, saving "Baby's Memory Book" and "Zoe" for last. They were gonna be the worst. The one of the vacation made my heart hurt. _There_ were my girls! Now I remembered her pretty face! How could I have forgotten? A picture of the three of us standing in front of Mount Rushmore, snapped apparently by a stranger we had asked to take it.

"Zoe" consisted of pictures of Harley when she was pregnant, a baby shower, and lots of photos of us when she was born and really little. A picture of me, in my early twenties....a hospital gown over my clothes, holding Zoe and grinning from ear to ear. A picture of Harley in the hospital bed cuddling Zoe. A perfect little family. A family that was _fucked_.

I had a hell of a buzz! I made it two pages into "Baby's Memory Book". The little lock of hair stopped me. It was held there by a tiny piece of tape, blond and soft. I touched it gently, and the tape came apart and the little piece of hair fell to the floor! I searched for it frantically! Shit! I couldn't find it. And it wasn't like I would be getting any more hair from her.

Son of a bitch! I curled up on the couch and bawled like a baby. Losing that piece of hair hurt me to the core. It was stupid, but it did. I wanted to die more than normal.

I sat up on the couch. My brain felt like I had fucking rabies or something! I had to do something or I was going to lose it. I didn't want to hurt Harley. I took out my scalpel and cut myself in the hand. Blood dripped from the wound. Okay. I was bleeding. I wasn't dead and in Hell, then. It was hard to know most of the time! I took the scalpel to a throw pillow on the couch and shredded it. It felt pretty good. But it just wasn't enough! I headed out to the back yard.

I awoke to find Jack gone....well, at least, not in bed. I heard a noise coming from the back yard. It sounded like someone was beating the shit out of something. Oh, Jeez. This wasn't good. I slipped on a pair of flip-flops and hurried down. As I got outside, I could tell he was chopping something up with an axe. I could hear him. "What the hell...?" I thought. This couldn't _possibly_ be good.

I got around the corner of the little shed where I kept my mower, and saw what he was doing. There was a pile of logs from when we used to use the fireplace, and he was chopping them up. He looked like a fucking lunatic. He was drenched in sweat and bleeding from somewhere.

"Jack.....?" I said. He didn't hear me. I got a little closer (not too close), and said, "Jack!" loudly. He spun around, still holding the axe. Sweat dripped off him. His eyes were wide and black. They softened a little when he saw it was me. He wiped his eyes, looked at his bloody hand, and wiped it on his pants. He grinned maniacally at me.

"Hey, baby!" he said. "I cut you some firewood!"

"Jack, it's August," I said.

He glared at me. "But, thank you," I said. "Baby, come in the house and let's get you cleaned up." He leaned the axe up against the shed and let me take his hand. I led him back into the house.

I kissed him. "Sweetheart, go take a shower, I'm gonna make you some supper," I said. "Are you hungry?"

"Ya, I _always_ am hungry," he responded. "Some days, I get so hungry I don't think I can stand it!"

"Well, baby, why don't you eat?" I asked.

"I like the way it _feels_," he responded. That didn't make any sense to me, but, okay. He was drunk and kind of freaking me out.

"Go take a bath," I said. "I'll have you a nice supper when you get done and I'll look at your hand. We need to put a bandage on it."

"Okay," he said. He started to leave to go take a bath, and then turned around. Our eyes met. "I'm sorry, Harley," he said. "I know I'm acting weird. I love you so much."

I went over and hugged him tightly, and we cried together briefly. "Go take your bath," I said. "I'm making some nice lasagna. Remember how you used to like lasagna?" He nodded and started back down the hall.

"Jack," I said. He stopped and turned around. "Why don't we just run off somewhere?"

He smiled at me sadly and shook his head. "There's nowhere we can run," he replied. "Not in this lifetime."


	4. Chapter 4

**This is all from Joker's point of view**

I stood in the shower, letting the hot water run down on me. I cried a little for everything I had loved and lost. It was agonizing. My hand bled, staining the water a pinkish tint. I didn't care. Apparently, I had been in there a long time, because the water started getting cold, and finally, Harley came to check on me.

"Baby, what are you doing?" she asked.

"I dunno," I responded. She peeked in at me and we locked eyes.

"Supper's ready," she said. She turned off the water. I continued to stand there, staring at her blankly. She handed me a towel. I stared at it. She tapped me on the shoulder, and I startled.

"Baby, you're scaring me," she said.

"I'm sorry." I started to dry off. She stood there with some clean clothes. I started to put them on.

"Wait," she said. "You're gonna get blood all over them. Lemme see."

I stuck out my hand. She examined it carefully, and then looked up at me. I avoided her gaze.

"How'd you do this?" she asked. I looked at the wall, tears running down my face. Harley sighed.

She rubbed some antibiotic ointment on the wound and wrapped it with gauze. "This really _ought_ to be stitched," she commented. I didn't answer.

She left the room, and I finished getting dressed. When I came out, she had a plate with lasagna and garlic bread done up for each of us.

"Let's eat in here," she said, indicating that we should go in the living room. I complied with this request. She had brought in some of the wood and started a fire in the fireplace, which was funny because it was summer and the central air was running. It was pretty, though. She dusted off the television and turned it on. We snuggled together on the couch, eating. As soon as I took a bite, I realized I was ravenously hungry. I'd had a few bites of McDonald's early in the morning; before that, it had been days since I had eaten. I wolfed down the huge plate of food and went back for seconds. Harley smiled and seemed pleased.

"It's good to see you eat," she said.

"It's delicious," I said between bites. "and I'm starving."

"I know you are," she said, rubbing my knee.

Stomach full, I lay back into the couch. I was drowsy, and my eyes felt heavy. I rested my head on the pillow and dozed. Harley lay down facing me and snuggled into me. I draped my arm around her. She wrapped her arm around me and rubbed my back and my side. I yawned.

"Can we just stay like this awhile?" I asked. She nodded.

We dozed on the couch, the tv on in the background, but we paid it no mind. I enjoyed the flickering of the fire, the pleasure of the food in my stomach, the smell of my wife's hair, and the softness of her body pressing against me. It felt so good. It was the first time I had felt this good in years. I drifted in and out of sleep. Harley snored softly, whimpered a little, and turned over in her sleep. She snuggled into me, waking me a little. My arm was still draped over her, now across her hip, and my hand rested on her softly rounded stomach. Her ass was right up against me. It was pretty damn sexy, laying like this, but I ignored the urge to wake her and try to talk her into doing something about it. Finally, I drifted off into sleep.

**Joker's Dream **

"Mommy and Daddy have a special surprise!" I said to Zoe. She sat on the floor, coloring. Snoopy, her stuffed dog, lay beside her. I looked at Harley and smiled. She smiled back.

"Is it a puppy?" Zoe asked.

"No," said Harley. "It's much more special than that, even!"

Zoe looked at us and scowled. "Than a _puppy_?" she asked.

"Mommy is going to have a _baby_!" I announced.

"You have a baby in you?" Zoe asked Harley. Harley nodded excitedly.

"You're going to be a big sister!" I said. Zoe continued to color. She stopped, took a drink of her milk, and then took her Oreo apart. She licked the filling out of it, dipped the cookie part in the milk, and took a bite. She looked at us thoughtfully.

"The baby is in your tummy right now?" Zoe asked.

"Yes, it's in my tummy where you used to be!" Harley responded. "See?" She pulled out the ultrasound picture and showed it to Zoe. Zoe examined it carefully.

She smiled up at us, and we grinned back. Zoe took another bite of Oreo, and started coloring again. "I know how it got in there," she said. "We learned about it at school."


	5. Chapter 5

I rolled off the couch and hit the floor with a thud, waking myself up. Apparently, I had slept there all night. I glanced around for my husband. The last I remembered, he had been sleeping beside me. I observed him on the other side of the room, sitting in a chair, busy with something. He had somehow managed to get himself done up in his usual bizarre fashion. That probably was not a good sign. As I woke up more, I observed exactly what he was doing. He had apparently been digging around and found my stash of meth, and he was cutting lines on a mirror. Great. Now I was out of drugs! I'd never seen him do drugs before, but....I'd never seen him do a lot of shit before, and that wasn't stopping him. I glanced around the room. To my horror, I saw he had ripped up a lot of the photo albums he'd had out earlier. Some of the pages he had burnt....they were laying around the fireplace. Why?!?!? Oh, yeah. Drugs.

"What have you done?" I cried. He startled, dropping the mirror on his lap and scattering meth everywhere. He started tripping out about this.

"Now look what ya made me do, dammit!" he screamed. "Fuck!!!" He got up and started pacing around.

"How could you burn pictures of Zoe?" I hissed. "Of our _baby_?"

"Huh?" he said. He didn't remember doing it. He turned around, glanced at the destroyed albums, and a look of sorrow passed over him. I was enraged. If he couldn't handle his damn drugs, he didn't need to be doing them! I smacked him hard in the side of the face, and he turned around, at which point, I kneed him in the crotch.

He doubled over and screamed, "Fuck!!!" I continued to stand there, glaring at him. Big mistake. He straightened up, eyes dilated and black, and screamed, "You're dead, bitch!" He came at me, and I almost didn't make it away from him. I ran up the stairs, and he was right behind me. I ran into my bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me, locking it. He hit the door a second later, and started pounding on it and screaming.

"Open up, bitch! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

I believed it. I sat down on the bed and cried, as he continued to scream and rage. Suddenly, it was quiet. I didn't even want to imagine why. I stayed there, scared to leave the room. A horrible thought crossed my mind. The ax downstairs. "Here's Johnny!" I thought. Oh, shit.

I went and unlocked the door, carefully peeking into the hall. Nothing. I quietly padded downstairs. He didn't seem to be in any of the rooms. I didn't see him in the yard. Perhaps he had gone. That would probably be for the best, anyway, but for some reason, the thought broke my heart. I couldn't imagine being without the only family I had left.

I headed back upstairs. Then I heard it. A noise from Zoe's room. Oh, no. I quietly went and peered in. I'd found him. He was sitting on the bed, carefully looking at clean clothes of hers that had never been put away. He pulled out a little sweater and pressed it to his face. What was he doing? Then, I understood. He was trying to see if he could still _smell_ her. It was heartbreaking. He must have heard me, because he turned around. It was obvious he'd forgotten the events of a half hour ago. His eyes were sad and teary.

"Hi, babygirl," he whispered.

"Hi, puddin," I replied.

"I can't believe they're gone," he said. I walked up to him, and wrapped my arms around his him, as he sat on the bed. He rested his head on my stomach, crying. I stroked his hair and wiped away his tears. He stood up, and we hugged.

"Do you suppose....?" he started.

"What?" I asked. I had a fairly good idea what the question would be.

"You can still get pregnant?" he asked. Yep, that's what I thought he was going to ask.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Do you really think that's a good idea? Now?"

"Probably not," he sighed. "But we aren't getting any younger."

I wanted to get his mind off this. I snuggled up to him tightly, and breathed into his ear, "Love on me."

He smiled, I could feel it against the side of my face. "Ah, yeah," he whispered.

I took him by the hand and led him to our bed. I shoved him down onto it, both of us giggling. I then climbed on top of him and stared making out with him. He was quite willing to become involved in this, and it started to involve a lot of rolling around on the bed and hormones.

"Ummm, yeah," he moaned into my ear. "Feels so good! You just so damn sexy, girl!"

I continued what I was doing, although it was making me unbearably horny. Apparently, I wasn't the only one.

"Quit being a tease!" he growled. "I can't take it, girl!" He started trying to get my pajama pants slid down, and I responded, "Huh, uh, buddy, I get _mine_ first, so get busy down there!"

He groaned in mock frustration, and then grinned. I would get mine first. It was a certainty. He would get _his_, too. I'd make sure of that. And I planned to make sure it was _so_ good, he wouldn't be able to think of anything for a while.

Wow. I'd forgotten it could be like this. A half an hour later.....both of us sleepy and utterly satiated, we rested.

We napped a bit. I watched him in his sleep. He was certainly frightening looking. His sleep was disturbing. He jerked about and cried out. His eyes moved rapidly back and forth under his darkened eyelids. What kind of nightmares tormented him? What kind of hell was his dream world? I snuggled up to him, hugging him. I wanted to comfort him, take away all the pain.

When I woke, he was up and on the prowl.

"We need money!" he exclaimed.

"Why?" I asked. "I have some money in the bank. What do we need it for?" I sat up in the bed, rubbing my eyes.

"You don't have the kind of money we need!" he responded. "We need MILLIONS of dollars!"

"What for?" I asked.

"Because, because, because, because, because!" he cried, pacing around. "Because of the wonderful things he does!" He was out to lunch again. Great. This was gonna be a fabulous day.

"I don't think you should do drugs anymore," I said. He was up in my face almost instantly.

"I DON'T do drugs!" he screamed. "That's YOU!"

"Okay, whatever," I responded. "Jesus!"

"Well!" he said, and stomped across the room. He crossed his arms, looked out the window, and looked back at me. He was obviously miffed. I couldn't even begin to understand what he wanted. He was as crazy as a loon. There was still a bit of the OLD him in there, but there was plenty of new, twacked-out him, too.

"Come on!" he bellowed. He stomped off down the stairs. "Druggie!" he screamed back.

I rolled my eyes and started to get dressed.


End file.
